Elysium
by Mr. Shadows
Summary: When Sherlock is engulfed by the crack, John must find the one man who can save him. But can the Doctor save not only Sherlock and Clara, but a new-found Amy, from their sealed fates? It seems this world is perfect. Too perfect... An idea that came to me when watching a YouTube Wholock video. Check it out, it's under the same title! Please review!
1. Introduction

'It all started about two months ago.'

Sherlock and John were at a woman's house. She seemed around the age of 60, lived alone. Husband dead - there were pictures lined along the walls. His name was Albert (the name was sticking out from inside the pocket of his waistcoat). He died in the war, it seems, from looking at the pictures. She never married again - a wedding ring was on display in the corner of the room, there was no other ring on her finger. She was clearly anti-social, as there were visibly no fingerprints along her old fashioned telephone, and the old fashioned telephone shows she didn't get out much. Last time Mrs Redbrooke was out would have been when she came to see the famous Sherlock Holmes at his own house.

'May I see it?' asked Sherlock.

'Of course.'

Mrs Redbrooke led the detectives into her bedroom. Neat, clean, tidied every Thursday by the looks of it but she never seems to keep to that routine as today was Saturday and it looked as if she had been cleaning every day of the week for the past six months.

'I avoid it as much as I can...' said Mrs Redbrooke. She shivered as she came closer to it. 'A lot of the time... when I forget, I move nearer towards it... and it... speaks.'

'Speaks?' said John.

'Speaks.' The old woman replied. 'In fact, one time, I woke up at about a quarter to four in the morning and could have sworn that the thing glowed!'

Sherlock was not convinced. His lips were pursed in his 'of course' manner.

'John, may I have a word outside?'

John sighed and stepped out of the room. Sherlock followed.

'She's quite clearly barmy, John,' said Sherlock in a hushed tone. 'She's lived a very long time on her own without any company or friends and she's confused as to what's going on with that crack.'

'It's a very misshapen crack, Sherlock. I mean... unearthly.'

'What are you getting at?'

'_I mean_, she has a point. I'm not saying she's right, but... it's worth investigating - just for once! Just this once, Sherlock Holmes, broaden your horizons. This could be a mean case.' John shot him a look.

'I am still failing to be intrigued, John. Look at her!'

John peered through a slight crack in the door to look at Mrs Redbrooke. She was smiling to herself and looking at nothing in particular, eyes wide, swaying a little as she stood.

'We should get the hospital informed and have her taken into a home. After that, that's the end of it.'

'That's disgusting Sherlock!'

'What is? That I'm actually trying to look after her? You know, I could quite easily say, no, leave her there, she's out of her mind, but for your sake, I'm trying to help!' Sherlock reorted.

'Listen, all I'm saying is, maybe... maybe we should try this out. Give it a go. At first sight of madness, we're gone, but while we're here we may as well get it looked at.'

Sherlock grunted and re-entered the room.

'Mrs Redbrooke,' Holmes began, 'how long have you lived here for?'

'Twelve years,' came Mrs Redbrooke's reply. She hadn't moved from her position, and was still lightly swaying.

'And has the crack been there since you moved here?' asked John.

'Oh yes! I tried to pave over it once but it didn't seem to make any sort of change.'

'Curious.' Sherlock said, moving closer toward it. 'And you say it once glowed?'

'Yes. Almost certainly.'

'Do you think, Mrs Redbrooke,' Sherlock ran his finger along the length, 'that you could make it glow again...?'

* * *

The TARDIS seemed rather quiet.

Its lights were all off.

There was a slow hum emitting from the bottom of the console.

It seemed dull. Sad, almost.

Clara Oswald trudged into the console room, wearing a dressing gown and fluffy pink slippers, mug of tea in her hand.

The lights _FWAM_-ed on, and the slow hum became a faster, more up-paced ripple. The console slowly lit up from the heart out, making the rest of the room glow. Clara felt herself grinning into her mug as she tipped most of the beverage down her throat. She didn't even _like _tea, but because the Doctor didn't keep normal Earth coffee, she decided not to go for the Aradrinian Muslarae-Bush Spudclove Fresh Root ... stuff.

Her entrance seemed to have been noticed by the Doctor, as he literally twirled up the stairs carrying a book in one hand and doing some kind of ballerina move with the other.

'Goodamornin', Miss Oswald.'

'Doctor, can I ask you a question?'

'Hm?'

'Do you even sleep?'

'Sleep? Me? Nah. Sleeping's for tortoises! Can't have as much fun if you sleep, I don't quite understand it, personally.'

'What do you do then?' Clara wondered.

'That is for me to know and for you to find out. Come on!'

The Doctor did another twirl and worked his way over to the scanner. 'So I had this idea, a good idea, not an 'oh, Doctor, what the hell have you gotten us into this time' idea that I normally think of, and basically, instead of any of us choosing where we should go we should look at the TARDIS scanner and find some extra-terrestrial thing going on in the world and go sort it out.'

'Sounds pretty stupid to me.'

'Well we're doing it anyway!' The Doctor touched the screen and it bubbled, showing a selection of about 295 abnormalities in the Earth. 'Choose one, any you like.'

'But... they're just numbers. We can't even see what they're about.' Clara said.

'Exactly... and doesn't it just add to the excitement.' the Doctor smirked.

'That one... there.' She poked a bubble entitled '172'.

'Brilliant.' the Doctor made a circle around it with his finger and the TARDIS set in co-ordinates for the Doctor to work on.

'So we don't even get to see what it is _now_?'

'Not till we're there!' the Doctor winked and began piloting the TARDIS, destination set, next stop: everywhere.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

'Well this is... interesting.' Says Clara as she steps out of the TARDIS into a street of old bungalows.

'Notice anything odd?' the Doctor asked, wondering how far Clara could discover by herself with a little nudge.

'I guess it smells funny?' Clara replied.

'Yes, anything else?'

'Looks like 2013... or not far off, at least. We're in the sort of street that they use to house the elderly.'

'Good, very good, keep going.' The Doctor persisted of her.

Clara glanced around for a second, taking it all in. She couldn't think of anything else to say about this very ordinary-looking street. She peered past the TARDIS. Nothing too strange there, either.

She wondered what the Doctor was trying to get at. 'It seems fairly average to me. Just... normal.'

'Exactly. And don't you find that a little unusual?'

'How so?' She followed the Doctor as he took the sonic screwdriver out of his coat pocket and waved it around a few times, device buzzing, scanning for whatever it is he was looking for.

'You never get normal on Earth, not anymore. Everywhere is infested by some sort of creature of robot or at least some disguised alien technology, but here, no. Nothing off about it at all. And that frightens the hell out of me.'

Clara hadn't seen the Doctor so tense about something she found so simple before. Well, except that time when she made tea without sugar - he had said it was a disgrace to mankind and tipped it down the sink.

But this... This was nothing. Nothing at all. As he walked she struggled to keep up with his long strides and she watched as his fringe bounced with each step. There was a deep frown carved in his lips and his eyes were narrowed.

'Why are you so worried about this? It's not important, is it not okay for something to be normal?' Clara looked at him, genuinely confused. He stopped and stared straight into her eyes.

'No, it's not. There are things everywhere, little things, things that don't belong to this planet. Drugs owned by tribes, UFOs in the United States, alien technology in this country, extra-terrestrial metals in the Eiffel Tower in Paris - every home in every neighbourhood in every town in every city in ever country in everywhere you go, there is something unearthly. But here, there isn't a trace. Maybe they're average, I don't know, but it feels a little iffy to me.'

'Why though? If there's nothing here, why find it 'iffy'?'

The Doctor turned to look away from his companion. 'Because the only normal place on Earth is the perfect hiding spot for something interplanetary, don't you think? We may pick up on extra terrestrial, but what if there's something else here. What if there's something we can't pick up on - something universal?'

Clara sighed. 'You said we weren't going anywhere in particular.'

'Not until I found this place.'

There was a long pause between the friends as they both kept walking, neither of them knowing exactly where they were walking to.

'So this is England, I take it?' Clara asked.

'Must be. Look at the sky.'

Clara did as he said, avoiding the very little light provided by the sun from getting in her eyes, noticing that there was not a speck of blue. All completely clouded over.

'At least it's not raining,' the Doctor said jokingly, smiling for the first time since they arrived.

'Oh, don't say that!'

'Why not?'

'All those cartoons, they say that sort of thing and it starts raining.'

'I've been in an episode of Tom and Jerry once.' the Doctor muttered, not exactly following the conversation after hearing the word 'cartoons'.

Clara obviously hadn't heard though, as she didn't respond to this.

Instead, she said, 'So where exactly are we going?'

'I don't know.' said the Doctor.

That was reassuring.

'I was kind of hoping on asking around, doing some door-to-door interrogation.'

'You mean like harassing old ladies in nap hour? Good luck. My nan'd give you a beating if you ever did that to her.'

The Doctor, again, wasn't listening. Instead he was picking a house to disturb.

'That one,' said the Doctor, pointing at a little bungalow in which the curtains were not drawn and you could see an elderly woman sitting forward on her couch watching TV.

'Ooh, better leave her, she's watching Countdown.'

'Oh well!' The Doctor grinned and straightened his bow tie. He took Clara's hand in his began guiding her towards the lady's home.

He rapped four times on the door and he noticed a bloodshot eye peering through the peep-hole in the door.

'HELLO,' he said through the door, 'I'M THE DOCTOR. DETECTIVE DOCTOR. DOCTOR OF POLICE...NESS.'

The woman opened the door as far as it would go with the chain.

'Hello, sorry about him,' Clara said, a little embarrassed. 'He's... new.'

'New? Why, I've been doing this for years.'

He pulled out a magnifying glass from his trouser pocket and examined the old woman from head to toe.

'Erm, excuse me, may I ask who you are?'

'Ah! Yes!' said the Doctor, realising his mistake. He pulled out his psychic paper and flashed it under his nose, and then read it himself. 'By appointment of her majesty King Debra the III. Well, that's new. Mind if we pop in for a chat? Lovely.'

The Doctor stepped inside the woman's house, and, reluctantly, Clara followed. The old woman seemed a little distraught and taken aback but closed the door and went into the kitchen along with the odd pair of detectives.

She opened her mouth to speak as the Doctor opened a pack of Jammie Dodger's he'd found in her cupboard, piping up properly for the first time. 'Might this be about Hillary's crack in her wall?'

The Doctor spat his Jammie Dodger across the table.


End file.
